All I Ask of You
by PhantomsAngel
Summary: Wow. This story is taking a totally unexpected twist...its like its writing itself! JEEZ anyway, for all of you who don't know what this is about, i'll tell you this, it starts after the ALW musical left off and hasn't ended yet :P
1. Aaralyn

CHAPTER 1  
  
Days, weeks, months had past since Erik had last seen Christine, and he had spent, what seemed to him, an eternity without her. The day she left, up until now, he had locked himself in his house by the lake, refusing to open the door on countless occasions for the stubborn Persian, Nadir, and had immersed himself in music. He played the score to Don Juan Triumphant, the opera he had written for Christine, over and over in his agony.  
  
But not today. Today was different. Today, instead of toiling restlessly at his organ, Erik sat on the bank of the huge underground lake, brooding. He sat with his arms wrapped around his knees, which were pulled to his chest, staring into the dark water.  
  
He hated what he saw. He cursed what he saw, rather. For the image glaring back at him was not that of a handsome young man that it should be, but was almost that of a monster. Usually, to hide his hideous features, he wore a sleek but tasteful white mask. Why he wasn't wearing it now, he did not know or care. There were no mirrors down here in the catacombs of the Paris Opera House, excepting the natural mirror of the lake, of course, and it never occurred to him until just then, looking into the water, that he wasn't wearing it. Again, he did not care.  
  
This hauntingly calm silence was shattered as Erik's fist came in contact with the cool water, causing it to ripple and splash, the reflection of his face disappearing. He sat back and, almost with a smirk across his face, refused to look into the water again. He fell back into silence.  
  
This silence was disrupted on account of the sound of footsteps made by a small pair of feet. Erik, whose head rested on his knees, did not look up. Nobody was supposed to be down here! He resisted the urge to stand up and shout at whoever was invading his territory and merely sighed.  
  
"Why are you here?" he asked, still not looking up. "I-well.I--" stuttered a female voice. Erik's surprise at the feminine voice almost caused him to look up, but he kept his head down. "I was." she continued "Well.a man, Jean-Claude.um.he said that." He rolled his eyes. Jean-Claude was the man who worked the ticket booth and was much to kind for his taste. For all he knew, he had probably suggested the girl live down here!  
  
The girl seemed to find untapped bravery and stopped her once incessant stuttering and said, "He said I could stay here."  
  
Erik's mouth dropped open at this comment. She was NOT going to stay here. Ever! What had Jean-Claude been thinking? Surely if this person had not been a girl, he would have thrown her out immediately! What was he thinking? He calmly lifted his head from his knees. "Well, you will not stay here."  
  
He looked her over. She was small for her age, with dark hair and dark eyes. What little skin she had was stretched over her obviously malnourished features. She held her cloak closely to her shoulders. She was dripping wet! He arched an eyebrow.  
  
"It is raining then, I presume?"  
  
It must have been, for the only other explanation he could think of for her wet ensemble was that she had jumped in the lake, which he knew was not possible. She nodded. "Will you let me stay?" Erik stood, and paced the bank of the lake a few times, deep in thought. He finally stopped and looked calmly at her. "No." "Bu--" He cut her off angrily. "No one is allowed down here! NO one! Only myself. " "Why?" "I'm not going to tell you," he said scathingly. "now, go." "Monsieur, I can't.I have nowhere to go!" she said pleadingly. "Please."  
  
He looked at her. It seemed as if she had not eaten for days, let alone had a good night's rest. His arms dropped from his hips to his side in defeat. ".Alright, alright." The girl jumped with joy and looked as if she could hug him. He prayed she wouldn't. "Follow me."  
  
He took her to the small room by the lake that Christine had slept in.Christine.Just thinking of her pained him.  
  
Somewhat disheartened, he showed her the entire room and where to find everything.Why am I DOING this.? He thought to himself over and over. He left.  
  
He went back to his house by the lake and sat at his organ. Before he could play, he noticed, with horror, his small white mask sitting on top of the organ. His mask!! He has not worn it in days! And the girl.she had seen his face.  
  
* * * 


	2. Christine's Opera

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please review!! I will keep posting chapters as long as people have the courtesy to review my work! I need feedback, and if you want a say in what happens next, REVIEW! I will take all reviews into account while writing chapter 3. If you want something to happen, tell me now!!  
  
Disclaimer: *sighs heavily and rolls eyes* no.I do not own Erik.but I do own Aaralyn! Even If I don't own Erik, he owns me! ;)  
  
ONCE AGAIN.PLEASE REVIEW!!!!  
  
CHAPTER 2  
  
Aaralyn sat quietly on the bed she had been offered. Why was she down here? Why? She let her head fall into her hands. Jean-Claude had been very generous in letting her stay, but, now that she thought of it, it wasn't him she should be thanking-it was he, the man by the lake.with that face.  
  
She shook her head as if to rid her mind of the vision she had seen. Surely God had punished him! No one looked like he did! Aside from the right side of his face, she had to admit he was handsome. His dark hair fell into his eyes at just the right angle and.  
  
She shook her head again as if to rid her of her thoughts. She stood up and walked over to the wardrobe. Inside she found the most beautiful dresses she had ever seen. She began to absentmindedly try them on, to see how they looked.  
  
* * *  
  
Erik's hands flew deftly over the ivory keys. He wasn't playing Don Juan, no, something more joyous. He did not know why. He stood up, twirled around and fell face-up onto his divan with a smile on his face. Perhaps he was just glad for company.  
  
I'll invite her to dinner.  
  
His smile widened at the thought. After all, he didn't even know the girl. Dinner would be nice.  
  
Christine.  
  
The name seared his thoughts like a knife. Christine.How he missed her! And to think, he was playing joyous music when, a few days ago, was playing dark, burning music. Curse him! He had written Don Juan for Christine, and if he loved her, why shouldn't he play it?  
  
Now in a much grimmer mood, he sat down again to play the fiery music that was Christine's opera.  
  
* * * 


	3. Night to Remember

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you all for reviewing! Keep at it! And now for some replies:  
  
EriksAngel: Thank you! By the way, Aaralyn is 25, but we still don't know it in this chapter. Soon, I promise!  
  
Azure: Yes, I know the beginning is a little fast-paced, but that's just how it turned out.  
  
and to Ayesha and DahnaJeane: Thank you! And, lol, DJ!  
  
KEEP REVIEWING AND THANK YOU!!  
  
CHAPTER 3  
  
Now wearing one of the extravagant gowns that she found in the wardrobe, Aaralyn sat on the edge of the bed, wondering what she could do. She looked down at her dress. It was a deep blue, gathering under her chest and falling to her feet like water would fall over a waterfall.  
  
And then, her room was filled with music. It wasn't coming from within her room, she knew, but from elsewhere. It was the most beautiful, enchanting music she had ever heard. She, almost in a trance, stood up. She followed the music to the edge of the lake. On the side adjacent she was standing on, there was a small house. She very quietly approached the door and stood, mesmerized. She could hear the man singing softy:  
  
Softly, deftly,  
  
Music shall caress you  
  
Feel it, hear it,  
  
Secretly possess you  
  
Open up your mi-  
  
The music stopped abruptly and Aaralyn was pulled unwillingly from her ecstasy. She blinked a few times, and noticed the door in front of her had been opened, and the man stood in it.  
  
"May I help you?" Erik asked with an eyebrow arched.  
  
Aaralyn just stood there, at a loss for words. Erik had to fight the impulse to wave his hand in front of her face to see if she was awake, for that would be too childish. He merely shut the door.  
  
"Wait!" said Aaralyn and he reopened the door, "Keep playing! That was.beautiful." He nearly grinned.  
  
"I know. I wrote it." He said matter-of-factly.  
  
"You wrote that?"  
  
"Of course, Mlle. Would you," the next few word were hard to put together, but he managed it, "would you like.to have dinner.with me? You seem dressed for the occasion!" he added.  
  
Aaralyn blankly nodded, not believing her ears. Dinner? She had not expected this.  
  
"Well then.come back in about twenty minutes, alright?"  
  
She nodded again, a smile etched across her face.  
  
* * *  
  
Erik shut the door, not believing what he had just done. He had actually invited someone to dinner! With him! This would be a night to remember.  
  
He noticed his mask, again laying on top the organ. He smacked his forehead. What was his problem? He had never ever forgotten to wear it in front of others! Why should this situation be different? Although, the girl had not said anything.Why? His face was hideous enough to at least be commented about, but was usually gaped at. She had done neither.And she had seen his face twice.  
  
He walked over to the organ and slid his mask over his face, determined not to forget it this time.  
  
* * *  
  
Aaralyn stood in front of the mirror, checking her appearance for the hundredth time. She was wearing the same blue dress, and half of her hair was pulled in a hairpiece nearly on top of her head, leaving the other half cascading around her shoulders.  
  
She moved over to the bed and sat down. She vowed to herself that she would at the very least find out the man's name, if not more about him.  
  
Determinedly, she walked out the door toward the house by the lake.  
  
She knocked on the door with caution. It opened, and the man walked out. She noticed he was wearing a white mask. He held out his arm toward her, and she took it.  
  
"Well then, shall we go?" asked Erik.  
  
On their way to a different side of the lake than Aaralyn had ever been to, he turned to her and asked, "Mlle, what is your name?"  
  
She stopped walking. "Aaralyn," she said.  
  
"Aaralyn." he repeated. "What a beautiful name. What does it mean?"  
  
"With song," she answered and seized her chance. "What is your name?"  
  
He looked her, seemingly puzzled. "No one knows my name."  
  
She gave him an incredulous glance. "Not even you?" "Of course I know my own name."  
  
"Well, what is it?" she pressed. He sighed, knowing he would not get anywhere if he kept this up.  
  
"Erik."  
  
She nodded and forced herself not to inquire further. They continued walking.  
  
Upon reaching a small table by the lake, they both sat down and started on their food. Aaralyn didn't know what it was but it was good.  
  
"Monsieur, why do you wear a mask?" she asked bluntly.  
  
He looked up from his dinner. "And you want to know because.?"  
  
"Because I have seen your face twice, and you didn't have a mask then!" She bit her lip, knowing she had gone too far. Erik looked away and continued to eat, refusing to answer her question. They ate the rest of the meal in silence.  
  
Erik finally stood up, and motioned for Aaralyn to follow him. He escorted her back to her room, and said simply, "I wear this mask so that no one should have to see my face." He walked away, leaving a very puzzled Aaralyn behind. 


	4. Unspoken Attraction

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you all again for your reviews. I also warn you, this chapter and the next may become a little mary-sue, but.Anyway, thank you all again and keep the reviews coming!  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything POTO.*sniffs* not even Erik.But I do own Aaralyn!! ;) (and actually, I own the music.does that count?) ;)  
  
CHAPTER 4  
  
I wear this mask so that no one should have to see my face.  
  
These words echoed in Aaralyn's mind long after the man she now knew as Erik had spoken them. What she didn't understand was why he wore the mask at dinner, but not when she had first met him, or while he was playing his music. She lay on her bed, face-up, pondering these thoughts. Giving up hope of understanding, she started to sing. She sang an old song that her father, a pianist, had taught her. Ever since she had been very small, she had loved the song. So she sang.  
  
Love has no end  
  
It's long and wide and deep  
  
Your love has found a way  
  
Into the very heart of me.  
  
Incessant knocking on the door caused her to stop. Predictably, she moved over to the door and opened it. It was none other than Erik, wearing his white mask. She gasped.  
  
"Monsieur! I'm sorry, I didn't mea-"  
  
Erik cut her off, raising his hand. "Where did you learn to sing like that?" He asked, pure awe painting his face.  
  
Aaralyn was incredulous. "M-My father, I guess," she said with a slight shrug.  
  
"Well, then, your father was amazing! Is that why you are here then, to sing for the Opera, I presume?"  
  
"No, of course not."  
  
"With a voice like that you could and should."  
  
"I am here because I was promised singing lessons from Carlotta. Do you know her?"  
  
He rolled his eyes. "Unfortunately, yes. And why would you take lessons from that old bat? She sings like.never mind." He stopped himself from slandering the Opera's so-called 'diva' in front of Aaralyn. "As it is, you have a beautiful voice, but if you are going to sing for Paris, you need training!"  
  
"I'm not going to sing for Paris! And if I was to get training, who would teach me, if not Carlotta?" She asked, her voice dripping with skepticism.  
  
"Yes you are, and well," he paused before finishing his sentence. "Me. I could teach you," he said hopefully.  
  
Aaralyn sighed, and a few moments of uncomfortable silence passed. "As long as I don't sing for all of Paris." she said thoughtfully, "I suppose a few lessons wouldn't hurt."  
  
An involuntary smile played on Erik's face.  
  
"Good! We shall start.tomorrow then?" he asked.  
  
"Yes. Tomorrow. What time?"  
  
"It doesn't matter. I will find you!" Erik said cheerfully. He did not leave without smiling one last time at a bewildered Aaralyn.  
  
Aaralyn closed the door after Erik and leaned up against it, as if to keep herself from falling over. What had she just agreed to? Her voice needed training, no doubt, but by Erik? On the brighter side, she would be able to hear his enchanting voice again.and his music.  
  
She slid down the door into a sitting position, still leaning against it. She let her pretty head fall into her hands, once again in moral confusion. She liked Erik, of course, but she didn't know him all that well.Maybe this would be a chance to get to know him better. She knew he was handsome, and his dark, ear-length hair and gravely dark eyes would haunt her forever. Forever, in a good way, that is. She rested her head on her arm weary both because it was late and because of all the random thoughts that puzzled her.  
  
* * * Erik lay on his divan, face down, just as bewildered. The very moment he had heard her voice, she had sparked something within him that had only been sparked once before, and he wasn't even quite sure what it was. But he was sure of one thing: This girl reminded him of his beloved Christine, and it had been she who opened his eyes, taught him to love and be loved in return. How he missed her! How he would weep for joy if he could hear her beautiful voice now.  
  
But Aaralyn.  
  
He could not deny she was pretty. After a few days' meals, she started to look a lot better, and the color had returned to her cheeks. Her hair, dark like his, fell around her shoulders in a way that made him look twice at her.and her eyes.  
  
She could sing too, as well as Christine could. What was he to do? He obviously liked Aaralyn.No. He would not give his heart away again, only have it shoved back in his chest in rejection.No. He would not have another Christine.  
  
* * * 


	5. Nostalgia

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you all again for your reviews! I emailed a few of you with this update for chapter four, but now you have to be proud of me! Two chapters in one day!  
  
To The Phantom Parisienne: I know.I know. I am a die-hard E/C fan too, but this story is somewhat hypocritical, isn't it! ;) I really am just experimenting.;)  
  
CHAPTER FIVE  
  
"No, no, no. Like this-" Erik's voice serenaded through every part of Aaralyn, and she fought to keep on task and pay attention to her lessons without losing herself in his warm, gentle, lulling voice. This was the second or third of her lessons and she did not regret her decision to let him teach her in the least.  
  
She repeated Erik's song, trying as hard as she could to please him. After all, he was her teacher. She let the music flow through her like water, surrendering her soul to its enrapture.  
  
Her solo became a duet, as Erik sang along with her, also losing himself in its beauty. Their song became more and more extravagant, until the final climactic notes were sung and the ecstasy ceased.  
  
Erik moved his hands away from the organ, as if singing like that pained him. He took several deep breaths.  
  
"What's wrong?" Aaralyn asked, concerned.  
  
"It's nothing."  
  
"No really, you look hurt. What's wrong? Is it I?"  
  
"No, not at all, it's just." he stopped not wanting to continue. "You remind me."he paused again, searching for words.  
  
"Of someone?" she offered.  
  
He took another deep breath before answering, "Not just anyone. An angel,"  
  
This nearly floored Aaralyn. She reminded him of an angel? Surely not. He was mistaken. There was no way-  
  
"My angel," he finished, confirming her beliefs.  
  
So, she sang like someone he once loved. That was good, she supposed, but she wanted to know more.  
  
"What happened to her?" she asked carefully.  
  
"She chose the beauty of faces rather than the beauty of music," he answered simply, with a sigh.  
  
"She left, then."  
  
"Yes, angel, she left."  
  
She almost grinned at being called 'angel', but refrained from doing so. She moved over to the organ bench and sat next to Erik.  
  
"You miss her." She said quietly.  
  
He turned to look at her. "Yes, very much so," Her brilliant green eyes met his dark ones for a fleeting moment. "You look like her, you know," he said, his eyes never leaving her face. "But Christine's eyes," he continued slowly, "were blue, not green like yours. They always showed fear.Fear of," he paused before going on. "Me." He returned his gaze to the organ, wishing he could forget everything.  
  
"You? But why would she fear you?" He turned to look at her, his white mask answering her question. "Your face." she said, barely above a whisper. " I thought she loved you!" Thinking she had gone too far, judging by the mournful look Erik showed her, she added "But I don't think--" she stopped, searching for the right words. "That you are ugly." she reached a trembling hand up to the right side of his face and softly caressed the smooth mask that covered his hideous features. He could not look at her. No one had ever shown him such compassion or tenderness before.Not even Christine. Her eyes bored into his, searching out the secrets he held. She stroked his hair across his forehead gently and murmured, "There. Now I can see your eyes." She smiled.  
  
An idea came to him.  
  
"Would you like to see Mlle Daaé's dressing-room?" he asked with new determination. Aaralyn had no idea who Mlle Daaé was, and a puzzled look crossed her face. What did she have to do with anything anyway?  
  
He noticed her puzzled expression. "I can explain on the way. Follow me!" He said almost cheerfully, rising from the organ bench, Aaralyn in tow.  
  
He led her through the catacombs of his lair, and it became so dark in the tunnels that Aaralyn cried out Erik's name and reached for his hand, which was cold. He stopped only for an instant, acknowledging this gesture, and she knew that if she could see, his eyes would be on hers. She didn't let go of his hand. He proceeded.  
  
They came to a tunnel that was lit by dim torches. There was a large door- like indentation in the wall. Erik and Aaralyn approached it, still hand in hand.  
  
The door opened to reveal what was obviously a dressing-room. They walked in.  
  
"Turn around." Erik commanded, and she noticed that the door she had come through had appeared to be a mirror.  
  
"I used to sing to Christine from behind this mirror, she couldn't see me, and I told her I was an angel. She believed me," he said with a mournful smile. "That is, until I took her down under the Opera House." He sighed, not wanting to share details. He shook his head remembering.  
  
'You said yourself, he is nothing but a man. Yet while he lives, he will haunt us till we're dead.'  
  
He looked up, a tear threatening to slide down his cheek. "Oh, Christine.."  
  
He was glad that Aaralyn was there, and that he was not alone. He was grateful for her company. If she had not been there, he supposed he would collapse with wracking sobs. He attempted to smile at her, and she knew what it meant. She stood next to him.  
  
"She was a great singer, wasn't she?"  
  
"Marvelously so. I taught her as well. I suppose she is about your age now."  
  
"Twenty-five?" she asked, half giving away her age, half wanting to know.  
  
Erik nodded. Aaralyn reluctantly let go of his hand and walked over to Christine's vanity. She noticed numerous powder puffs and make-up cases. There was a gold plaque above the small mirror, which read "Christine Daaé". Now she understood.  
  
"We don't need to stay here if it hurts you," she stated gently. "We do have a lesson to finish, you know." she tried not to sound like she was eager to leave.  
  
"Right, of course." Erik stood and Aaralyn once again took his hand, and this time, she could see his face. He smiled weakly but appreciatively.  
  
They made their way through the catacombs to the house by the lake. He resumed his position by the organ and attempted to play. After a few measures, he stopped and ran his hands through his hair and let his head fall into his hands.  
  
"You haven't the heart to play, have you?" Aaralyn asked knowingly. She again sat down at the bench, next to him. She, almost by reflex, extended her arm across his shoulders. He looked up at her gratefully.  
  
"It's not that it just."he stopped, knowing he could not escape Aaralyn's sharp intuition. "Alright.it's exactly that." he was inclined to simply lay his head on the organ, like he had done so many times before, just to hear the awful sound it emitted, reflective of his mood, but he didn't.  
  
Reaching over his shoulder, he took Aaralyn's hand and kissed it. He wrapped both hands around her small one and pressed them to his forehead as if the warmth of her hand would cure his awful past. Hot tears soon drenched her hand. She released it from the grasp of his hands, but only to wipe away his silent tears. She stroked his hair from his face. An idea came to her. She took his hand and forced him to stand.  
  
"Erik, can you dance?" she asked excitedly. Surely lively dancing would cure him of his mournful mood. After all, dancing was fun!  
  
"Of course, angel. What should we dance to?"  
  
"A waltz!" she suggested, and Erik nodded his head in agreement. Something wouldn't work.  
  
"Child, I cannot both play a waltz and dance to a waltz simultaneously," he said, again disheartened.  
  
"Then sing! We shall dance to a waltz that has words. Agree?"  
  
Erik thought it over for a moment. He was in the worst of moods, and while Christine would have left him in his agony, Aaralyn only tried to make it better. He truly respected her, he was even starting to love her. As much as he didn't like to admit this to himself, he found it was true.  
  
Determined to put Christine in the past, he nodded to Aaralyn with a smile, slid his hand around her waist and took her small hand in his. He began to sing the waltz he had promised her, and lost himself in the dance.  
  
* * * 


	6. Imprudent Girl, Wise Daroga

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry this took so long to post but I have suffered a severe case of writer's block these last couple of days so…PLZ forgive me. Oh, and I want to BEG you all for your forgiveness for me posting that STUPID CHAT FIC!! I am SO EXTREMELY sorry and I totally forgot the rules…I am really sorry. I hope you all like this chappie, _please review_!

DISCLAIMER: Do you think that if I owned any of this stuff I would be sitting HERE? Hardly. Aaralyn is mine though. :P

ANOTHER AUTHOR'S NOTE: This pivotal chapter is dedicated to Phantomgurl33, for curing me of my writer's block. I told you I would do it! ; )

CHAPTER 6

Aaralyn woke up the next morning with an unusual weight and warmth upon her. She turned her head slightly and noticed that Erik was sleeping soundly next to her, his head resting on her shoulder, and his strong arm wrapped around her middle. She couldn't help but smile. She had no idea how they had ended up this way, for she didn't remember much of last night except for the dancing. Noticing his mask still perfectly adorning his face, she gently removed it, wondering how he could sleep with it on. She fondled it lovingly, and set it on the nightstand next to her bed. She settled back into contented bliss and fell asleep again, dreaming of heaven, and her Angel of Music.

* * *

If this was heaven, it sure smelled like breakfast.

"Wake up, child! I have your morning meal!" she heard Erik say. She opened her eyes groggily, yawning. 

Erik placed a small plate of hot food next to her, on the nightstand which his mask had been placed. 

She ate thankfully and quickly. Wondering if what she had witnessed earlier that morning was a dream or reality, she opened her mouth to ask Erik, but she promptly shut it, knowing that it would not be appropriate. At any rate, if it was a dream, it had been a pleasant one! Something told her that she wasn't dreaming…

Erik took her dish and disappeared from her room. Strangely, he did not return for quite some time, and that was only to knock at her door. She opened it, and he told her that he was going shopping for provisions. She looked at him curiously and nodded, reluctantly accepting his claims. 

She sat back on her bed, with nothing fun to do until after Erik got back. Accented with a huge sigh, she laid back on the bed in defeat. Then, her curiosity got the best of her. Standing up, she made her way out her door and to the lake, which she followed to Erik's house. She had been there countless times, but only by his permission. Cautiously approaching the door, she made sure he was not home.

She tried the door. Miraculously, it was unlocked. She bit her lip, unsure of whether she should go in. Again, sheer inquisitiveness took over and she stepped in. 

She was met with the familiar red walls, the coffin, which he slept in, and the organ, which he played so beautifully. Taking it all in, she sat at the organ bench. There was a somewhat large container of what seemed to be a life's work of music next to the organ that immediately sparked her interest. Flipping through the music, she noticed old works, unfinished business, and wonderfully completed pieces. Coming across a work entitled _Don Juan Triumphant_, she laid it on the organ's music stand and began to play. She knew Erik could play much better than she could, but her father had taught her to play when she was young, and she enjoyed it. After playing a section over and over, she dared to sing with it. Sooner than she knew, she was singing the entire Opera, this _Don Juan Triumphant_.

* * *

Erik neared his house by the lake and noticed a sound more beautiful than the music of heaven itself that seemed to be radiating from the walls in which he resided. Nearly dropping the parcels he carried, he stood entranced outside his own door, not daring to go in lest the music should stop. 

Oh, Christine…

He immediately recognized this music. It was his! No one was to hear it now but him! Who dared to even _sing_ it? This burning music pained him, and he would rather not hear of it now, at least while he was around. It reminded him of his horrible past. How dare Christine sing it! Why was she even—

He burst through the door. "Christine! I thought I--" he stopped in mid sentence, both astonished to find Aaralyn, not Christine, at the organ, _playing_. What had he been thinking? Christine had--left. The change of expression on his face was visible with realization. 

Aaralyn stopped playing and said quietly, almost afraid, "I'm not Christine…"

"I know, Aaralyn," Erik said, still dumb with bewilderment, and…intoxication. "How did you--"

"The door was unlocked, Erik. I suggest that if you wish to keep me out, you at least could lock your door," she said with resolution. 

He stared at her, utterly dumbfounded. "Please, don't ever play that music. _Again._" 

"It's so beautiful!" Aaralyn said, almost with delight. "Why shouldn't--"

"I _asked you not to play it_," Erik said almost scathingly, his mood altering drastically due to his sudden longing for Christine.

"I, well, OK…I won't," Aaralyn quietly consented "…but why?"

He gave her a murderous look. "You do not need to know and I am not going to tell you." 

"But--"

"I will not tell you!" Erik's temper was getting the best of him now.

Aaralyn raised her voice to his level. "You obviously wrote this for someone you loved, why shouldn't you hear it?" she demanded loudly. "It is beautiful! Even if it burns, it--"

"You're not Christine. You WILL NOT sing it." he said darkly, folding his arms across his chest.

"I'm sorry if I--" She paused. "You need to control your temper." came the challenging reply. 

He almost exploded in fury. "The day you can tell Erik what to do is the day you will meet your demise!"   


A sudden thought came to him. She stared to speak but he cut her off. "Why are you in Erik's house anyway?" he demanded of her, and with out giving her a chance to explain said, 'Allez-vous-en! Leave!" he said with no room for debate. 

"Alright Erik," she said, her eyes shining, threatening to spill tears. "I'll leave you. I'll leave you to think about your precious Christine! I'll leave you to _think_ all by yourself! Surely it would be easier to think without annoying little Aaralyn running around," she said, turning sullenly toward the door. 

He looked after her, on the verge of extreme rage. He could hear her crying softly as she left. Sighing, he sat on his divan and laid his head in his hands, confused and frustrated. Why had he, when only this morning had woken up next to her with his arm draped around her waist and his head lying gently on her shoulder, just suddenly lost his temper like that? Surely he could demonstrate more control over his actions….

But hearing that music again had stung him, for he had not heard it sung by one whose voice astoundingly resembled Christine's since Christine had sung it herself. He preferred not to remember the day Piangi was killed and he had taken the role of Passarino in _Don Juan_, singing to Christine as if it had not been an opera, but life itself. Shaking his head mournfully, he sat back on his sofa, wishing his thoughts would just…_leave_… 

Christine…

He found himself again thinking of Aaralyn, and how her almost supernatural voice painfully reminded him of his beloved Christine. Why couldn't he get a hold of himself? Christine had been gone nearly two months, and he had not felt sudden longing for her this deeply, to this degree, until today…when Aaralyn played that music…

He had to admit she could play well. And her voice was even more like that of an angel than Christine's had been. If only he could tell her…but he couldn't now. She had seen the real Erik, and would never forgive him, much less love him, as he secretly and almost unwillingly and inescapably hoped. 

He needed to talk to someone, and he knew one would always come faithfully when he called. 

"_Daroga!!_" Erik's voice seemed to reverberate off the walls, and he knew that with his excellent skill in the use of ventriloquism, Nadir would hear him perfectly, no matter where in the Opera House he was. 

About five minutes later, there was a small knock on his door. Erik rushed to it, almost seeming too eager. Opening the door, he was met with the dark face of the Persian, Nadir, and was grateful at once. 

"Erik?" he asked, concerned. 

"Come in, come in," Erik said quickly, and the daroga sat on the divan, while Erik restlessly paced the room. 

"It's about Aaralyn, isn't it?" Nadir asked, and Erik thought that his perceptiveness could well possibly match Aaralyn's, so he had better not hide anything. The only reason Nadir knew about Aaralyn was because Erik had talked with him the first day she had come, and Erik had been utterly confused with her then. He nodded. 

"What have you done to her?" The Persian asked with an eyebrow arched.

Erik seemed taken aback by this question, but answered slowly but honestly, "She reminds me so much of Christine…"

Nadir nearly rolled his eyes. He knew where this was going. Resolving to be patient and hear him out, he listened. 

"I came here today and found her at my organ," he continued. "She was playing…playing…_Don Juan. _I didn't even know she could play, but not only was she playing, but she was singing as well! Like an angel, daroga! I burst through the door, and told her to stop, it pained me. She just…gahh…" he stopped, at a loss for words. 

"She doesn't understand, does she?" Nadir asked quietly, after a pause. 

"No." 

"She would if you would explain."

Erik considered the amazingly wise simplicity of these words. He couldn't explain.

"She'll never listen, not after I lost my temper like that," he said doubtfully. 

"Did you try, Erik?" 

"…No…"

"Well then, how do you know that she will not listen?"

Erik was silenced. A new thought came to him. "Daroga," he asked curiously, "just what do you _want_ me to explain to her?" 

Nadir sighed. "Your feelings, Erik. She is as utterly confused with you as you are with her, from what I can tell."

__

True, Erik thought. "Well, I can try. I'm not sure _I_ even know my feelings! This could get harsh…"

"She will listen."

"How do you know?"

"Just _try_ and talk to her, Erik." 

Both sighed, and Erik slowly nodded. "I will." He started out the door.

"Erik!" The daroga's voice stopped him. Nadir handed him his small, white mask.

"You might want this," he said with a hint of levity. Erik smiled and donned his mask, thankful for his good friend, both for his counsel and for his amazingly perceptive understanding. 

* * *

Hope you all liked it. If you don't review, I will kill Erik in the next chapter…so REVIEW!! (do you honestly think I am serious? if I would kill anyone, it would be raoul…heh heh heh…:P Anyway-REVIEW, _please_! 


	7. Questions Answered

*   *   *

A/N: I am SO EXTREMELY sorry I couldn't get this out sooner…school and all. I hope you like it! Please R&R!!

Christine: My God, am I EVER gonna be in this??

PA: Oh…Just YOU wait…*soft maniacal laughter, reflective of Erik's*

Christine: Just get this over with. I'm tired of being left out. 

PA: Shut up. 

Christine: YOU! 

PA: I said it first! 

Christine: ::throws punch at PA::

Raoul: *Steps in front of the brawl* Um…hope you like it…*turns to Christine and PA, separating them* 

Christine and PA: Shut up, bastard! 

Raoul: Wha- I…? *scratches head in the fashion of a monkey*

Erik: ::walks in and PhantomsAngel and Christine both swoon::

Erik: *rolls eyes and casts a murderous glance at Raoul, who smiles at him. he rolls his eyes again*

ANYWHOOZLES…on with the show…J 

CHAPTER 7

Aaralyn lay on her bed, softly sobbing into the pillow in front of her. _Why? _Why did I have to ask him about his music? Why couldn't I just keep to myself? He's right…I am just an annoying little brat…I never should have gone to his house…It's all my fault…He'll never forgive me…__

She turned over with a loud sniffle and hugged the pillow to her chest. Shutting her eyes, she imagined the many fates that awaited her. Would he tell her to leave? Would he…No…she stopped thinking about it and turned back over, once again crying, face down, onto her pillow.  

A soft hand caressed her cheek and tucked her hair behind her ear. She nearly jumped, but only flinched. Turning her head, she saw none other than Erik. Closing her eyes, she said through tears, "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…"

"No child. It is I who need to apologize."

"No." 

"Aaralyn, I…"

The next few moments of silence passed uncomfortably. Aaralyn finally took initiative and said, "I should have never played your music. It is yours, not mine…I'm so sorry, I didn't know it meant that much to you…"

"You _wouldn't_ know how much, now would you?" he asked…unintentionally almost inviting her next statement. 

"I would if you…would tell me…" she said carefully. Erik was starting to become slightly exasperated with her curiosity, but reminded himself that he was here to put everything right again. If she wanted to hear his story, so be it. He sighed deeply. 

"This will be painful but I…suppose I can tell you…because I…" he stopped, cutting his sentence short. He cleared his throat and began. 

He told her everything; his mother never letting him kiss her, always wearing the mask in the presence of others, and all about Christine.

He remembered the day he had first heard her sing…He had been wandering the catacombs of the Paris Opera House when a sound as though from heaven reached his ears…He told Aaralyn of how Christine used to think him an angel, the Angel of Music. He told her of when he played _Resurrection of Lazarus _in the graveyard for Christine, who longed for her father deeply…And finally, he came to _Don Juan_.

"I wrote this Opera for Christine," he said, and he sat on the edge of the bed with Aaralyn next to him, who was listening so very intently.  "Because I loved her…The main male rôle, Passarino, was played by Piangi. I…killed him on opening night and took his place beside Christine, who played the lead female rôle. I sang to her as if it had been only she and I, no stage, no lights…just life in it's purest form. Then, things went horribly wrong. What would have been a night of triumph turned into one of horror. She tore my mask from my face," Aaralyn gasped at this statement, "in front of the entirety of Paris…" He stopped, unwilling to continue. Aaralyn understood, and didn't speak. Erik ran his fingers through his dark hair and let his forehead rest on his palms. "I shouldn't have told you that…"

"I'm sorry I asked…I didn't know…"

"Now you do."

Aaralyn sighed and leaned her head on Erik's shoulder, wanting to know the rest of the story, but not daring to ask.

"I suppose you wish me to finish," He asked slowly, after a considerable amount of time. 

"Not if you don't want to."

"It's alright," he sighed and continued, "I took her down here that night and that sick-puppy of a Chagny followed us. I gave her a choice: live with me, or see the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny die before her eyes. That night was like any other…she kissed me…and I let her go…she loved that boy…" He looked up to the ceiling, a wistful sigh escaping his lips. 

"That's so awful…" 

"I suppose so…" he replied, "But I still miss her."

"I knew that from the way you glared at me when I played your music."

"I-I'm sorry about that…I mean…you didn't know…By the way, where did you learn to play?"

"My father taught me when I was young. It's really nothing…"

He didn't reply. The two of them just sat there: Erik reliving his horrible past and Aaralyn painting pictures in her mind of what he had been through. 

Neither of them noticed that the other wasn't talking…

Finally, Erik slowly stood up and turned to face Aaralyn, still sitting on the bed. "I suppose I should just leave you be…" he said. After taking her hand and lightly brushing his lips across it, he disappeared from the room.

Aaralyn sat-still mesmerized.  How could such a powerful man be so…intimidating and yet so…gentle? These thoughts soothed her mind into sleep as she let the darkness consume her. 

*   *   *

Hope you liked it! PLEASE for Erik's sake R&R!! Thank you SO MUCH to all of my reviewers and ESPECIALLY to Phantomgurl33, who has kicked me in the butt and helped me stay on track!! LOL, hugs and kisses from Erik, phantomgurl!!! J 


	8. Nightmare

A/N: I hope you all liked my last chapter!! Here's the next one…with just a little more drama…more of Aaralyn's past…Enjoy! PLZ R&R even if you don't like it…J 

CHAPTER 8

"Mama…? Why does he have a knife?" I had asked in my inferior, childish lack of common sense.

"Hush, Aaralyn!" she had replied, avoiding my question. "Go to my_ room. Sleep there tonight…"_

Little did I know that those would be some of my mother's last words…I made my way to her bedroom, completely unaware of why my stepfather had been brandishing a knife in my mother's face. She had been so strong, his size and sheer dominance not frightening her. I remember her scream as she tried to overpower him…she couldn't. I knew what had happened. Covering my ears as I shouted, I ran to my mother's room where I lay there, burying my face in her blankets, her sweet scent filling my nose. I only cried harder, for hours, not moving from her bed…

I had no idea how I ended up at my real father's house…I just remember an officer asking me lots of questions and…it's all a blur. Maybe because I had been crying the whole time…

My father was a kind and gentle man. I had only met him a few times in my life before but now I ran to his arms and let him hold me through my terror. 

I spent my entire childhood with him and his uncontrollable passion for music. I learned to play the piano at about seven years old, accompanying my father's violin or sometimes his voice. 

But night after night, I would hear my mother's last command…I would cry myself to sleep every night…I couldn't help but feel her death had been my fault, that I could have helped her instead of running to her room like the frightened six-year-old I had been. Father would hear me weeping, and come up to my room. He would take me in his arms and sing me to sleep…

"Sleep there tonight…"

"No! Charles! Wha-? Stop!!" I could hear her newly lifeless form slump to the floor over and over in my dreams…

Aaralyn sat straight up in her bed under the Opera, tears streaking her face and sweat drenching her temples. She gasped for breath, still crying incessantly. 

"Erik…" She said quietly. "Erik…"she said louder.

Rising from her bed shakily, she nearly shrieked, "Erik!"

In less than a moment's time, he emerged from his adjoining room, fearful concern accenting his words. "Aaralyn! What? What happened?"

She could barely speak. "My…my mother…" Looking up at him from her place on the floor outside her bedroom where she had sunk, he understood. 

He took her hands and gently forced her to stand. Trembling, she placed her hands on her shoulders, as if to calm her raging insides. Carefully wrapping his arms around her, as if not to break her, Erik laid his head on hers as she cried onto his night-shirt. 

After a few glorious moments, Aaralyn lifted her face from his chest, only slightly drawing back from his embrace. "My mother…she…was killed…"

Erik placed a finger over her trembling lips to silence her. She continued crying, knowing he understood. He tucked a stray dark piece of hair behind her ear as she moaned, further soaking his attire. 

Calmly and carefully, he picked her up into his arms and carried her gently to her bedroom. Lying her on the bed, she tried to speak, but thought better of it. He sat on the edge of her bed and softly sang to her a song he had often sung to Christine. As she slipped into a deep sleep, he felt his eyes sting with the tears of remembrance of an awful past. Making sure that she was asleep, he gently covered her tightly with the blanket to make sure she was warm, and kissed her lightly on the forehead-something he would _never_ do if she had been awake…

He turned from the bed and walked from the room, a new curiosity invading his thoughts.

No. He would not ask Aaralyn of her past, not yet. 

* * *

A/N: please R&R!! Thank you all for reviewing in the past, I love you al! please keep it up!

Phantomgurl33: I know, I know…I decided not to drag Christine into this…_yet_…;) Don't worry! I'll get to her!! (email me…I'll explain…;) 


	9. Picnic Breakfast

A/N: I am SOOOOOO sorry for not updating sooner!! I have been so caught up with school and all…ANYWAY, I know this is an EXTREMELY short little chappie BUT it leads to bigger deals (as you'll see by the end of this) and so yea…don't worry I got the whole thing planned out J . 

Irene: I was going to email you, and im extremely sorry I couldn't : the mail server kept telling me that your address wasn't at yahoo, so im sorry I couldn't figure it out!! I tried! Im glad you like my story!!

CHAPTER 9

Aaralyn groggily opened her eyes and rolled over on the bed she slept in. Propping her head on her elbow, she could just make out the form of Erik sitting in the chair across from her through the cobwebs of the sleep in her eyes. Looking back on the events of the night before, she laid her head back on the pillow and sighed softly…

She had had a nightmare about her mother's unforgettably horrible death. It had gotten so bad that she woke from a deep slumber in her terror and pain of remembrance and ran into Erik's arms, not knowing why he had come, but knowing she had called his name. She had cried and cried in his embrace, _Stupid, foolish, childish me…_She thought. 

Glancing in his direction, she wondered why Erik was still here. Secretly hoping that there was some unexplained admirable reason for his actions, she got up and walked over to the chair he slept in, kneeling down beside him. She brushed a few stray raven colored hairs from his face and laid her head on his shoulder, silently thanking him for his understanding. She felt strong fingers caress her cheek, and lifted her head to see that he was awake and smiling a rare, warm, smile. Taking his hands in hers, she pulled him gently from the chair and asked him, "So, what's for breakfast?"

* * *

Some time later, Erik and Aaralyn sat, munching on eggs and toast, on a large blanket near the lake in the fashion of a cheerful picnic. After talking and laughing for a good amount of time, Erik hesitated to ask, "Aaralyn, why were you crying last night? What happened to your mother?"

Aaralyn looked down at her toast, not really wanting to answer but knowing that she would. He had a right to know after all…

She told him everything, every tiny detail, from the moment her parents had divorced to the night of her beloved mother's death, all the way to when she met her birth father…

"That's when I learned to play the piano," she went on. "I was only about six or seven years old, but he would teach me and I would practice every day…"she sighed wistfully. 

"Then I learned to sing! Oh, what a joy that was!"

She continued to weave the tale of her childhood to him, and he listened intently for several minutes. 

When she finished, they began to clear the dishes on the blanket in comfortable silence, he stealing fleeting glances at her and she doing the same. She stood up.

Unexpectedly, she jerked backwards slightly at the force of a deep cough. Erik handed her a handkerchief and she took it gratefully, continuing to cough. "I'm sorry," she said. "Forgive me,"

"Are you alright?" Erik asked, concerned. 

"I'm fine. I promise, this happens every once in a while…" She handed him back his kerchief and he noticed a spot of blood painting the once brilliantly white fabric. 

* * *

A/N: PLEASE R&R! It means so much to me when you guys respond…even in a negative way (hey, gotta learn somehow….J ) TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK!!!! Please!!! 


	10. The Master's Music Part 1

A/N: I want to send the absolute BIGGEST thank-you to Phantomgurl33 for helping me resolve a certain…ISSUE of mine…! THANK you SO MUCH!! Hugs and kisses from Erik, as always!! 

To the rest of you lot, (just kiddin :P) here's Part 1 of the Master's Music PLZ R&R!! It is MUCH appreciated!

:-D

CHAPTER 10

And so Aaralyn sat, at Erik's gloriously imposing black organ, in the middle of the blood red room in his house under the Paris Opera. Lightly, she placed her fingers over the keys and almost felt a tremor of power radiate from within it. She trembled and began to play the beginning of Erik's opera, _Don Juan Triumphant_.

Knowledge of what would happen if she were caught passed through her mind, a shadow over her fortress of contentment she had built as she played his music. He wouldn't care that she was in his house, or playing his organ, for that matter. No, it was the very soul-wrenching music she played, the music that had caused him to nearly…well…throw her across the room at one point…

But she didn't care. She didn't even know where he was…Sighing in complete ecstasy at one of her favorite places in the music, she promptly let it consume her again, not caring if she was discovered. 

The whole orchestra was playing with her. She imagined every sound each instrument would make in harmony with her organ. Her mind's eye painted pictures of this captivating opera being sung on stage…

A violin solo. She could hear it even over the organ. Whoever was playing surely knew this music well! It was strange…It almost sounded real.

Her fingers flew over the keys, taking her notional, unreal audience to the very glorious tips of heaven to the darkest pits of hell…and back again.

The violin once more…Why could she its counterpoint more clearly than all the other instruments'? Surely it was just _one_ violin…

Opening her eyes, she jarred her senses back to reality, but her deft fingers did not waver over their ivory imprisonment. Standing so very close to her was Erik, playing his sacred violin, tears painting his sunken cheeks. She nearly cried out to him as her eyes stung with tears as well, but played strong and continued.

Erik knew every note of this music, as if it had been engraved on his very soul. He played with his eyes tightly closed, as if blocking out reality. His face showed every emotion flooding through him, and Aaralyn looked admiringly on in amazement. 

She was further pleasantly surprised when Erik began to sing…his voice wrapped around her very soul, calling her to him with a dark power only he could emanate. Her spirit answered as she raised her voice in song with his in perfect, flawlessly glorious harmony. 

After what seemed like hours of pure rapture and intoxication, the music ceased after the last climactic notes were played, leaving Erik and Aaralyn choking on their tears as they fought them back, but lost the fight. Erik collapsed in a heap to the floor, suddenly prey to his past…the music had taken him to that very night, the night Christine had promised never to leave him…. Aaralyn stayed on the organ bench, torrents of hot tears taking over her being and leaving her numb from the power of that music.

Shakily, she slid from the bench to floor next to Erik, who had somewhat gotten control of his emotions but was still crying rather violently. She laid her head on his shoulder and he seeming quite distant for the time being, slid his arm around her shoulders. 

The strangely musical sound of their simultaneous weeping stopped when Aaralyn emitted a deep, throat-stinging cough from her lungs. Steadying herself with one hand on the floor and the other pressed to her breast, wave after wave of gut wrenching coughs took over her slim form.

Erik sat beside her, his hand on her back, making sure she wouldn't collapse. He disappeared for only a moment, and returned with a small vial of red liquid. 

"Drink this," he said, his eyebrows raised under the mask. Aaralyn sat on her heels and drank the whole substance once, causing her face to cringe because of its strong taste. Seeing what must be done, Erik swept her into his arms and carried her to Christine's room in his house and laid her gently on the bed.

"You need rest," he said softy. Aaralyn's coughing had subsided and her breathing became even. She nodded. 

"Will you stay with me…just until I fall asleep?" she asked.

"Yes…I suppose I could…" he replied with a small sigh. He drew a chair up beside her bed and sat down, watching Aaralyn's eyes close. Her lashes painted slim shadows on her cheeks in the dim candlelight, and her hair was streaked with golden flecks. After he was sure she was asleep, Erik drew the covers around her tightly, brushed a few stray hairs from her forehead and gently brushed his lips across it before leaving her to sleep. 


	11. The Master's Music Part 2

A/N: FINALLY!! the long awaited chappie 11 is here!! srry for the wait…I have BIG plans for this story. Just you wait. for now, enjoy, read, and review. always

-PA

CHAPTER 11

For what seemed to Erik like days, Aaralyn did not wake. He had stayed with her every spare second he had, and when he could stand it no longer, he would leave her side only to play the organ, using his hands to reflect the emptiness that was in his soul. Sometimes, when he would watch her, she would stir ever so slightly, sending a tremor of joy through him. He realized now that no matter how hard he tried, he could not live without Aaralyn. He couldn't just let her lie there; he had to do something…anything…

He took her slim form in his arms and gently took her from Christine's bed and laid her on the divan in the same room as the organ.

"Come to me, Aaralyn…" her eyes closed tighter, and she turned on her side, as if she was fighting his voice. "Come to me," he repeated. Poising his fingers over the keys, he played. He played for what seemed like hours, letting the music take him places he could only dream of, and frequently calling Aaralyn out of her dark slumber. A single tear slid down his cheek at the thought of what could happen to her…what could happen to _him_ if something happened to her…

He had heard that music could be healing, almost, and that one who was asleep (in Aaralyn's case) would wake when they wanted to, when they were called. Erik firmly believed this. Music was his life. He expressed things in music that he could not in words, making them timeless.

He felt two small arms wrap themselves around his neck, and he turned with a start to see Aaralyn's smiling face.

"You…you came!"

"Of course, you called!"

At this, Erik stood up and wrapped his strong arms around her, and she buried her head in his chest, both happy that would could have happened did not happen. She sat back and looked into his face.

"Erik, there's something you need to know."

"Yes?"

Sighed before continuing. "You remember, when I coughed up blood…all those times?" Silence. Aaralyn continued. "I-I'm dying, Erik." Disbelief clouded his eyes. Looking at her pale face, he started to understand.

"But—" he couldn't finish.

"Shh…Dance with me Erik." He was a little taken aback by her words, and she could tell. She smiled. "That song…it was gorgeous.."

"I wrote it for you," he said as he once again took her slim form in his arms and hummed the song he had just played to call her to him.

"Really?" Erik only nodded, losing himself in the dance, taking Aaralyn with him. He held her closer, knowing this might be the last few moments of peace in his life. A tear painted a path down his face, and Aaralyn simply kissed it away, knowing what he was thinking.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Sorry this took me so freaking long to update. Yes I'm still alive, believe it or not. Enjoy! Please, please PLEASE I BEG of you, R&R! Thank you!

CHAPTER 12

Staring into the shimmering black hiatus that was the lake under the Opera House, Aaralyn sighed deeply. All she could think about lately had been Erik, which made sense, since she had seen no other human being for…she didn't know how long. His regal image was forever painted in her mind and his gentle strength and his seemingly divine power over music was forever etched on her soul.

Despite her complete contentment here in the catacombs of the opera, it seemed as if something in her life was missing. She couldn't quite place it, but it was as if a small hole had been carved into her spirit during her time with Erik.

Rising from the lake's bank, she made her way to the first dark path that her vision crossed, and started toward it. Shadows cast by the small torches played across the walls and sent a chill up her spine, inclining her to turn around. It was obviously not wise to wander in the catacombs of the opera without a guide.

An icy hand clamped onto her forearm and she nearly screamed, but another hand closed over her mouth. Her body relaxed as she saw her angel's face.

"What are you doing? Where were you intending to go?" Erik's eyes showed mild curiosity and slight confusion.

"I'm…not sure."

"Why would you wander this labyrinth without a guide?" Aaralyn couldn't bring herself to even hint that she was even the smallest bit unhappy with her circumstances.

"I don't know," his eyes bored into hers, pleading for an answer. Her eyes met his gaze evenly. His cloak swirled around him as he turned to leave her right where she was standing, left to find her own way back. "Wait," she blurted, her hand coming down on his shoulder with force she didn't know she possessed. Words failed her.

"What?" Erik demanded.

"I…it's so cold…" she said, suddenly finding the cracks in the floor quite interesting. Erik only stared at her, knowing she would confess to what she felt if he waited. He crossed his strong arms over his chest, waiting for her to finish. Finally, she spoke. "I miss light…and warmth!" she exclaimed, only just realizing for herself what she couldn't live without. Erik's gaze softened just a little. "I miss wind and trees! I miss…"She wanted to continue but seeing his expression she stopped. Assumedly, he got the point.

"I don't want you to be unhappy…" was his understanding reply.

"Erik, I could never be unhappy when I'm with you! It's just…"

"Have you any family in France?"

"A brother, yes, he's a doctor…but I don't want to leave here! I never should have said anything, I'm sorry I brought it up. No place on earth could make me happier." However truthful her statement was, it made a tiny tremor of satisfaction glide down Erik's spine. But he couldn't force her to stay with him in the darkest pits of hell.

"What is your brother's name?" he raised an eyebrow in question.

"I'm not telling. You'll send me away."

"Aaralyn," his hand found its way to the soft flesh of her cheek. "Making you unhappy with me would be ultimately worse than any separation between us. You can't be expected to live here, down here in this black labyrinth, with me." His gaze focused suddenly downward, knowing that their time together surely would have come to an end sometime. He just didn't know it would come so suddenly, a shock crushing the breath from his lungs. She moved closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. "You would hate me," he finished.

She looked up at him and shook her head. "I won't leave you."

"Yes you must…I can't bear the weight of your unhappiness with me on my shoulders. You need to go. You can see your sun and feel the wind on your cheeks and hear the leaves in the trees rustle quietly…I do believe it is about autumn now. And once you are satisfied, you can return to me. You won't hate me because I let you go. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know…"

"But…" her small protest was silenced when he placed his finger firmly on her lips. He turned his back to her and disappeared into the shadows of the labyrinthine pathway before she could say a word. Small cracks in the walls scratched her back as she slid down to the floor, tears filling her eyes. Puzzlement and utter despair filled her heart and mind as she tried to understand his words.

The next morning, Aaralyn woke and dressed quickly, though hesitant to leave her room. Her hand hovered over the brass doorknob for a second before she turned it.

Erik was sitting on the divan in the living room, dressed in a white poet's shirt and loose black pants. He rose and took her hand. "Come with me."

Aaralyn dreaded what was to happen. Almost mindlessly she followed him through the black halls of his lair, tightly clasping his hand, enjoying the rare warmth of his hands against her unusually frigid ones. They came to the small door to the ground floor of the grand opera house. Aaralyn reached the door first, and turned back to look at Erik. She took his other hand. "Erik I don't want to go…"

"Child, you…you must." he fought to keep his voice from trembling. "Your brother is waiting." Without thinking, she wrapped her small hand around his neck and brought his lips to hers, speaking without words what she couldn't say, and what they both could understand. She drew away just slightly so that their breath still mingled and her forhead rested on his.

"As you wish."

And with that she turned and opened the door that separated Erik from his life and the one he truly deserved. Her fingers lingered on his for one glorious moment, and then she was through the door, wrapped in her brother's tight embrace, with her angel still closed into his world of unforgiving night, now without her to guide him.


End file.
